Hush
by ilovespikespiegel
Summary: Before Beyond Birthday was taken away to Wammy's House, he had a loving father and mother, a best friend, and a life that could be considered perfect. Nobody knew about the numbers he saw above everyone's heads, he didn't even realize what they meant until the day they reached zero above his parents' heads. BB's life before, during, and after Wammy's House, with his best friend K.


"B, come on! You're going to miss lunch," the girl named Linda called to me from the steps.

No matter how many times I told her to leave me alone, she just wouldn't. She simply insisted on trying to get me to interact with her and the other children at the orphanage.

I stood up, flipped my raven hair out of my eyes, and glared at the girl. "Leave me the hell alone."

She balled her hands into fists and held them at her sides, trying to force her tears back down. I wasn't close enough to see the tears forming in her eyes, but I _was_ close enough for her to see _my_ eyes. My blood-red glowing eyes always made little Linda cry. But, then again, who _wouldn't_ be frightened of a boy like me? Everyone at Wammy's House was terrified of me; that was why Linda tried so hard to get me to socialize.

Wammy's House ... I believe I should explain further about how I ended up in such a place, before I go any further in my story.

When I was only five years old, my father, my mother, and I were preparing for our annual Christmas vacation trip to my mother's relatives house in southern Florida. My mother had bought the train tickets months in advance, and my father had already taken that whole month off from work. It seemed like the perfect situation: a husband and wife who were very much in love, taking their adored son on a trip for the holidays.

Perfect. Except for the numbers.

I had seen the numbers ever since I was born with my cursed red eyes; numbers above every single person's head. At birth, I had no idea what the numbers indicated. In fact, I never really knew for sure what the numbers meant until the day my father and mother took me to the train station.

My mother stood beside me, holding my hand with one hand and her baggage with the other. We were waiting by the railroad tracks, waiting for the train to come. My father was having trouble finding a map of southern Florida in the rail station's gift shop, but I assumed everything would turn out fine. It always did.

"Just a little while longer, honey. Your father will be out here very soon," my mother said smiling. She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

I glanced up at my mother to smile in return; that was when I saw it. The numbers. They were lessening by the minute, almost as if they were counting down. I thought about asking my mother if she saw the numbers too, but I knew she didn't. I knew nobody saw the numbers but me.

Inside the gift shop, someone shouted and then chaos erupted. Three men clad entirely in black ran out of the gift shop with knives in hand, _bloody_ knives. A woman ran into the building and shrieked, "Someone call an ambulance! This man's been injured!"

My mother's grip on my hand weakened as she stretched her neck to peer inside the rail station windows. The train was coming. I heard the howl and screech of the engine pulling into the station. She took a step backwards to try to crane her neck higher. Her step was a little too close to the edge; her heel caught on the curb and she slipped. The numbers above her head were reaching closer to zero as she fell onto the train tracks. I reached down to help her but somebody pulled me away and covered my eyes, just as the train roared past.

I didn't know who was holding me, but I did know who they wheeled out of the gift shop on a gurney. It was my father. His numbers were gone too.

It was that day that I realized what those numbers meant. Those bright glowing numbers that danced menacingly above every single one of the seven billion people in the world. The numbers were their death clock; they counted down to the exact moment they would perish from this earth. I was the only person with this ability. I felt like a five-year-old grim reaper.

With both of my parents dead, I was declared an orphan. Orphans were sent to live in a place called an orphanage, with a ton of other parentless children. How fun. Out of all the orphanages in England, I was sent to the one called Wammy's House. Wammy's House was not _just_ an orphanage; it was more like a school to drill each and every one of us to become the next L. L was considered the world's greatest detective, and he grew up in the exact same orphanage.

Most of the children at Wammy's House loved the opportunity to play with other children and be taught as much as they could possibly learn. Most of the children wanted to become the next L. Some of the children couldn't take the responsibility; well, it was only one child who went by the name of A. At Wammy's House, nobody knows each other's true name; we are told to go only by an alias such as a single letter or another name. _I _knew _everyone's_ true name though, that was just another benefit of my glowing red eyes.

Back to my discussion about A. Well, A was the only other child I actually got along with at Wammy's House. He arrived there around the same time I did; but his parents were killed in a double homicide. Apparently, A was the closest out of any of us to becoming the next L. The pressure of having that responsibility over his head got to be too much for him to bear.

We found him hanging in the attic of the orphanage. The only child to ever commit suicide there. My only friend. A. Alexander Trent.

Friends were hard for someone like me to come by. What child would want to be friends with someone who had skin as pale as snow, hair as black as coal, and eyes as red as blood? I did have a best friend once, _before_ my parents died. Her name was Kasey. Kasey Iverson. She was the only person who ever befriended me despite my almost vampyric appearance. We were around the same age when I had to leave for Wammy's House. Her parents offered to let me live with them; they said that I was the only friend their daughter had ever made. But, Quillish Wammy, aka Watari, aka the man who took me away to Wammy's House.

I missed Kasey on occasion. I missed going to her house every day after preschool; her mother always made us peanut butter and jam sandwiches. Those were my favorite. The very first time Kasey invited me over to her house, I hesitated. I knew that if her parents saw my eyes, they'd think I was a freak. What kind of parent would want their daughter around a boy with red eyes?

Kasey's parents would. They thought that my eyes were unique and that they made me special. _That_ was why it was so hard for me to leave that day my parents died. Kasey wouldn't stop crying; I almost cried, but crying wasn't something I did. I didn't even cry when my parents died. Obviously, I was extremely upset and saddened after their death, but crying was just something my body didn't seem capable of doing.

"B, don't you want to come and see the new children?" Linda called from the porch.

New children? Ah, yes I forgot about that. L had told us a few days ago that three new children would be arriving at Wammy's House by the weekend. He said that their names would now be I, J, and K. Everyone was interested in seeing what the newcomers looked like, everyone except for me.

I glared at her again, "I said leave me alone!" and then turned around and walked away.

From the distance, I could hear another voice coming from where Linda was standing; it was a female's voice. The only girl living at Wammy's House had been Linda, but perhaps one of the newcomers was also a girl.

Pointless as it would have been to turn around and see whom the second female was, her voice sounded oddly familiar. I hadn't known very many girls in my lifetime, and the only one I ever truly cared about, was still living in London.

The second girl's voice grew louder, accompanied by footsteps. She was headed towards me, but I kept my back towards her. That is, until she tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and was face-to-face with a girl a few inches shorter than me. Her skin was pale, her hair was the color of honey, and her eyes glimmered like two emeralds. The smirk on her face was _not_ recognizable; it was new, fresh, and definitely intriguing.

"Kasey," I said firmly, arms crossed.

* * *

**A/N: I decided to write another Beyond Birthday fanfic because of the response the other ones received. I hope you like it, please review with your thoughts. Thank you!**


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